


The Grief to Kill

by Malathyne



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Braska's Pilgrimage, Diary/Journal, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malathyne/pseuds/Malathyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Jecht's absence, the last days of Braska's pilgrimage were too quiet, and Braska could no longer keep these thoughts at bay.</p><p>A story in two short parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Years Faded

**Author's Note:**

> _It stung like a violent wind_   
>  _That our memories depend_   
>  _On a faulty camera in our minds_   
>  _But I knew that you were a truth_   
>  _I would rather lose_   
>  _Than to have never lain beside at all_

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reflections of a high summoner near the end of his pilgrimage.

That night, as he was trying to fall asleep, Braska thought of Yuna. He could see her perfectly in his mind’s eye, and he held it there for several strong minutes. She was a little short for her age, but she had more than enough spirit to make up for it. Such a bright child, both in mind and in energy. She took after her mother in that way. Guilt lanced through him. Even if he could remember Yuna’s face clearly, could remember what she was wearing when he left her in Bevelle, he could not remember his wife so well. It’d been three years. Perhaps it was not considered a long time, but it had been more than long enough for his mental image to fade, for their little girl to grow so much.

When he tried to recall Lanna’s face in the perfect detail he remembered his daughter’s, he struggled. He would start with Yuna’s features, since they were so similar to his wife’s that now and then, it was painful to look at her. He would imagine what Yuna would look like when she was older. (That in and of itself was a common practice for him. If there had been some way, any way to be with her through the years, to watch her grow, while still defeating Sin…) He would make her single blue eye green, and he would add the swirls. He would lighten her hair to sand-blonde. It was close, maybe, he thought, but it wasn’t right. The nose was wrong, but how was her nose shaped again? Were her cheekbones higher or lower? Was her jaw wider? All those little things that he had memorized, that he thought was etched into his blood and bones and skin… In only three years, he struggled to remember. And maybe he hated himself for it, if even just a little.

Braska gave up on sleep for that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A journal entry written by a high summoner near the end of his pilgrimage.

Perhaps it is strange, to begin writing a journal so near to the end… But since when has the strangeness of something ever stopped me from doing it? Haha. I think it is not a bad idea, regardless. There are so many thoughts in my head that even if I were to voice them to Auron, I do not know where I would begin…

I am sure there are not many records of a summoner’s thoughts from the last nights of his pilgrimage. Yevon would not permit such a thing to exist. I wonder what other secrets Yevon has been keeping. That is not to say I am surprised secrets are being kept. That kind of naïvete was lost long ago in the sands of Bikanel. Perhaps if I had more time, I could have devoted myself to uncovering more truth. Unfortunately, time is not something I have in excess. I am sure I could choose to delay my final encounter with Sin, but I have no desire to. Now that I hold the power to defeat Sin, I will not stray. To do so would cost more innocent lives. I do not think I would be able to forgive myself.

The camp is too quiet. I am sure even Auron feels the same, for all his reservations in the past. Perhaps I should have listened to him. Perhaps I should have turned back. But not for my sake. Never for mine… But there is still hope. This may put an end to Sin for good, and then no one else will have to have suffered the ways we have. I must continue to hope, or else all will have been in vain.

I am putting an end to these thoughts for today. Tomorrow, we must pass through the city again. It would not do for my mind to be elsewhere, as it surely would be if I allow myself to keep writing. Goodnight.


End file.
